


Ship Wrecked

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: I just don't know yet exactly how that will go, M/M, This has the potential to be longer, but if I do then the rating will likely change at some point, historic AU, or call it an au where everything works a little differently, or mass production of anything, please forgive the historic inaccuracies, set at some point before modern technology, so I would like to write more for it, so it might be a while before I add to it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 14:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: Duke's ship is wrecked on an isolated island, leaving him injured, alone and with no real hope of rescue. Nathan happens to be one of the few people who live nearby.The idea for this kind of sprung into my head from nowhere while I was reading about the history of the British Isles, around 800-900 AD, and then there was this sentence: "Some dozen miles or so out to sea from Arbroath [in Scotland] lies a long, jagged reef call Inchcape. It was ever a dreadful hazard to ships, and local legend has it that for a while there was a bell on it to give some warning to sailors." And it's just like; oooh what if Duke was on a ship that fell foul of the reef? And what if Nathan lived nearby? And what if Duke had to spend the winter there while he recovered from his injuries? What if they got to know each other while he waited for the weather to clear and his wounds to heal before he could travel? hmmm? What might happen then???So, the fic isn't specifically meant to be British as such, but I do have the idea of Scotland in my head as I'm writing.





	1. Chapter 1

Somewhere high in the northern hemisphere sits a small island, one of a chain a little way off the mainland and surrounded by dangerous reefs. Late one autumn, in a time before the industrial revolution, a sailing ship makes its way along the coast towards the island chain. It might be a trading ship, it might be a pirate ship; it doesn't matter.

The sailors on the ship are cautious of the reefs and they're steering a safe course, but a storm blows up and pushes them off it. Amongst the high waves and harsh winds, the hull grinds against the sharp rocks and splinters with a terrible sound like some otherworldly scream. Some of the crew are killed as the ship breaks up, others drown as she sinks. Some cling to pieces of wreckage and are carried back down the coast or out to sea, a few bodies are washed up on the beach of the little island.

Duke Crocker is lucky; he makes it to the island in one piece, just about. He clings to the shore with the last of his strength, his other hand pressed against a wound in his side, and waits for the storm to die down. 

On the other side of the island is a small farm, sheltered from the worst of the weather by the hills at its side. The farm's only occupant is busy getting ready for the coming winter, but is about to head inside for the evening when the sound of splintering wood reaches him through the wind, making him shiver as he closes the farmhouse door behind him.

Nathan lights the fire to warm himself after a hard day's work, and because he knows that he will need the warmth even more when he gets back. A broken ship means there might be salvage to take, and out here on his own he cannot afford to turn away any goods the ocean might see fit to offer him.

On the beach, Duke is struggling to stay conscious, and trying not to think about the fact that he is alone, with no ship or supplies, injured and soaked to the skin on an evening that is only getting colder as the night sets in. He tries not to think about the fact that even if he could solve some of these problems, he is still stranded on … whichever island this is, and not likely to be able to leave before winter sets in and makes travel impossible. He clings to the land as the waves lap at his feet and he hopes for some good luck, though he really can't imagine how this can possibly manifest itself.

By the time Nathan reaches the beach in the wind and the rain, he is starting to wonder if he should have come. What salvage can there possibly be that will be worth the effort of carrying it home in this weather? He stands on the edge of the beach and holds a lantern up high, but in the wind and the rain and the dark it is hard to see much detail. He catches sight of a couple of broken and bloody bodies, ravens already hopping towards them curiously. He walks along the beach, looking out to sea for any barrels of cargo that might be floating along, checking the sand for any crates that might have been washed ashore. He doesn't see much. He's about to write the whole thing off and head home, when his eye is caught by some small movement near the waves.

Duke tries to turn over onto his back. If he is going to die here, he wants to do it looking up at the stars, even if the storm means they're not exactly visible right now, even if he struggles to find the energy to keep his eyes open at all. He makes the turn, realises too late that this hurts the wound on his side and means that the sea water is now washing the blood from his body at a faster rate. He closes his eyes. At least he can tell himself he died at sea.

He feels movement and thinks for a moment that the ocean is carrying him away, but no; it is hands. A pair of strong hands pulling him up from the sand and throwing him over their should like he's a sack of meat. He grimaces with the pain as the moment jolts his injury, but he doesn't try to speak. In any case, what would he say?

Duke doesn't know how much time has passed when he wakes up, but his situation has changed dramatically. He opens his eyes to firefight, feels a bed beneath him, a quilt on top of him and when he tries to sit up, the pain from his side is not quite as intense as it might have been. It feels like the wound has been dressed and he is dry; his sodden clothes gone.

"Hey," a voice says, "don't try to move." Strong hands press him gently back down against the pillows. "That's a nasty gash on your side."

Duke mumbles an affirmative, tries to get his bearings. The room isn't big or luxurious, but its warm and dry and that's really all you need from a room he thinks. He turns his head towards the fire and then the smell of cooking reaches him and he realises how hungry he is.

"I'm making soup," the voice tells him. "Should help warm you."

Duke croaks out a cough before he can speak. "Thanks," he says. It doesn't seem enough but he'll have to get more eloquent another time. Start with the basics. "I'm Duke," he says, "Duke Crocker."

The voice resolves itself into a face as his rescuer comes closer and nods at him briefly. "Nathan Wuornos," he says. "Welcome to Haven."


	2. Chapter 2

Nathan fills a couple of wooden bowls with soup from the pot that bubbles over the fire, and puts them on the table to cool. He looks over at his impromptu house guest, whose skin is returning to something of a more normal colour now that he's dry and had some rest. Hopefully the soup will help as well.

"How long was I out?" Duke asks.

"About a day," Nathan tells him.

Duke nods to himself as though it could have been worse.

The soup is steaming merrily so in the meantime Nathan fills a couple of pewter tankards with water from the jug on the table. "Here," he says to Duke, "I'll help you sit up a bit so you can have a drink."

Duke grimaces through the pain as Nathan pulls him half way upright and shoves a pillow and folded blanket behind him for him to lean on. Nathan passes him another blanket for his shoulders and takes his time going back to the table for the tankard; gives Duke a moment to settle. "There's a spring out back," he says. "Its fresh." Duke takes hold of it with two shaking hands, but he drinks from it well enough. "More?" Nathan asks.

"Thanks," Duke nods.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, watching the fire, until Nathan decides the soup has cooled down enough and offers a bowl to Duke. "You alright with that?" he asks, watching the stranger's unsteady hands. 

Duke nods, grimaces, balances the bowl on a fold of blanket against his chest with one hand and nods again, "Yeah." Nathan puts a spoon into his other hand and hovers by the side of the bed as Duke takes a first spoonful. "Good soup," Duke tells him appreciatively

"My mother's recipe," Nathan tells him, not wanting to take more credit than he's due. Duke takes another spoonful and as Nathan sees that he's not likely to spill it, he turns back to the table to eat his own.

Duke pauses to give the food a chance to settle on an empty stomach. "What's the fish in it?" he asks.

"Haddock," Nathan tells him. "With potato, leek, onions."

"Best soup I've ever eaten," Duke tells him, going for another spoonful.

"Imagine that's related to you're being half-drowned since your last meal," Nathan replies amiably.

Duke stutters out a surprised laugh. "I can swim you know," he says, keen to point this out as a point of pride. "Not the first time I've been on a wrecked ship either, just …"

"Hey it's fine," Nathan tells him that he doesn't have to explain, but Duke seems to want to talk.

"... we'd been fighting against the storm for hours and then something caught my side as the ship started to break up. I didn't even see what hit me through all the rain. Only had the vaguest idea which way land was when I hit the water. I was lucky," Duke says, meaning most didn't get as far as the beach.

"Were they your crew?" Nathan asks.

Duke shakes his head in response. "I only just signed up a month ago. Didn't know any of them well. Still," he says. Shakes his head again, not sure how else to finish the sentence. 

"Once the storm's cleared I'll go back down and check for bodies " Nathan tells him. "Can give 'em a burial at least, though we've no priest."

Duke nods, takes another spoon of soup to cover the fact that he doesn't know what to say, other than, "Thank you."

Nathan shrugs. "I was in the right place I guess. Or you were."

"I don't even have anything to offer you in payment for your trouble," Duke adds, reaching for his throat where his necklace no longer sat.

"Your clothes are dried," Nathan tells him, noticing. "Your jewellery's with your boots. I stitched up the tear in the shirt, the jacket might take a bit longer."

Duke relaxes the empty bowl down onto the bed. "Did you stitch up my side too?" he asks, impressed, looking down at the bandages tight around his side.

Nathan shakes his head. "Not sure it would help; it's grazed and bruised as much as cut. Put some healing salve on it; from the wi- women on the other side of the island. Should help."

"Women?" Duke asks, curious. "Or witches?"

Nathan shrugs. "Both," he replies. "Don't worry, they're far enough away from here if you want to keep your distance. In any case I've never seen them do anyone harm. Anyone who didn't deserve it," he clarifies.

"I'm not complaining," Duke tells him, "I think it's helped. As long as you don't all have some nefarious purpose planned for me."

Nathan looks over at him and raises an eyebrow, not really sure what to make of that. Duke shrugs, then flashes a grin, and Nathan laughs. "No," he says, "Though once you're healed there are some jobs around here I could use your help with. Some two man jobs that are awkward since Dad died."

"Sure," Duke replies. "Absolutely. I figure there's not much travel here once it turns to winter."

Nathan shakes his head in agreement. "By the time you're healed enough to travel, you won't be able to get far until spring. You can spend the winter here if you help out. There's not many other options on the island anyway. A little cluster of houses in the centre but none of them have much space. Couple of crazy old brothers on the other side of the hill, but they take some getting used to. That's about it for Haven. Not sure it deserves the name from the outside."

"Why do you stay?" Duke asks.

Nathan shrugs. "Its home," he says simply. "More soup?"

Duke nods, "Yeah, thanks."

Nathan stands and takes the bowl from the bed where it rests by Dukes hip, but Duke grabs his wrist before he has the chance to move away. "Thank you," Duke says "Really. I was lucky to get as far as the beach; this is beyond lucky, this is …. I don't know what I've done to deserve this."

Nathan holds his gaze for a moment, then nods an acknowledgement. Duke nods back and lets go. He still owes the handsome stranger his life and he will need to repay that debt, but a proper thank you is a good first step.

"So tell me about these witches," Duke asks, lightening the mood. "I'm curious."

Nathan shrugs. "There've always been witches there, since forever probably. Always three, they say; maiden, mother and crone, I think is how it's supposed to go. Though, come to think of it, I don't think the current "mother" is, actually. If you don't object I'll see if they can come over some time, check on your wound. They're good at healing, particularly Gloria. She's the eldest. Then there's Jess. Ginger's still a kid really, but they say she's powerful. Been living with them a few years now. Her mother died and her dad went away to find work, so …" Nathan stops suddenly, apparently self conscious. "Anyway, if you spend the winter here you'll meet them soon enough."

"You live here on your own?" Duke asks.

"Yeah, just me now, " Nathan tells him. "I've a bed up stairs though, so you're welcome to that one," he says, nodding towards a steep and narrow staircase in the corner of the room, half hidden behind a door. "We got that one set up in here when Dad couldn't manage the stairs any more. Been meaning to dismantle it for months, get it back upstairs; glad I didn't now."

"I thank you for your procrastination," Duke grins briefly then turns more serious. "What were you doing down there on the beach in the storm anyway? You can't have known anyone was there."

"Heard the hull crack," Nathan tells him. "It happens sometimes. Went to look for salvage. Found you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're glad you did, any form of positive comment is always very welcome.


End file.
